Stairway to Heaven

Dear lady, can you hear the wind blow, and did you know

Your stairway lies on the whispering wind.

The storm outside was growing more disastrous with each minute. Branches swept across the horizon; unmerciful forces of cold wind ravaged trees. Malfoy Manor stood isolated in the midst of it all, fighting back the bitter gales with the strength of magic forged in stone. The sky was painted with such thick clouds that the superstitious found themselves quivering in fear.

Misty was perched, yet again, on her window seat, that blessed seat that served as a sanctuary for her as she mulled over everything that had happened since the beginning of her servitude. On this first day on the New Year, Misty wondered if the dawning of the twelvemonth would mean the end of her life. Could this be her last chance to sit comfortably beside the cold windowpane and gaze out across the storm-battered countryside?

The most terrifying part was that she did not know the answer. There were certainly things in store for her that night. She knew only that her father and Lucius had put much time into the planning of the events, that they were now bringing forth their daunting secret to spread fear in the public, and that she was deeply involved in some way that she could not fathom.

Her final thought was punctuated by a sharp knock at her door. Rising hastily, Misty crossed her room and cracked her door open, peering out at her visitor.

It was Draco. Misty straightened up. "Yes?"

"Myfanwy," he said solemnly, as if using her real name would solve something, though Misty could not guess what.

Misty stepped aside and he walked into her room. She shut the door and icily stared him down, expecting more barricaded emotions and locked hearts. But Draco's eyes were not hard as marble as she had prophesied.

"Do you know," he said, his voice quiet but even, "how aggravating cryptic statements are?"

"Do you know," she countered, "how hurtful poisoned friendships can be?"

He winced, and Misty could see regret in his eyes. However, he said nothing on the topic, only stated, "That was a question, not an answer."

"Why do you care?" Misty muttered, but she could see now that Draco had done some thinking, and her frigid voice held sardonic undertones.

"I can see," Draco replied, the corners of his mouth quirking, "that I'm not going to get anything more than queries out of you."

She raised her chin defiantly. For some reason, Draco's regret was not enough. She needed an explanation, would not be content until she got it.

"Have you any more questions?"

"Yes." Her eyes were flashing, all humor gone. "First, why did you not listen before? And why are you listening now?"

Draco moved to her bed and sat down, but his eyes never left hers. "I thought about what you said."

"For once."

That made him flash an evanescent smile. Misty did not return it. "Your words," he continued, "seemed to bring me out of a stupor. It was almost as if--as if your will had made me think of my father not as a dictator whose word was law, but as a man, just as fallible as the rest of us. And his sins," Draco finished with a sigh, "are too many to count."

Misty nodded at that, but her thoughts were on another of his phrases: As if your will had made me think... Surely this was just her power at work. Her Domination Legilimency had finally given Draco the strength to face down all that he'd been brought up to feel and instead to look at his father in the correct light.

Misty was glad to have shown Draco the truth. She was unable to suppress her triumph and joy that he was here, in her room, talking like the rift between them in the past months had never been. But was his conversion real, or was it all fake, all a lie? It hadn't, after all, come about naturally. Misty had forced it to happen with her subconscious wishes.

Misty almost gave up on her happiness. But the stubborn part of her mind (which was quite a large portion) brought back memories of the passage in that book about her ancestor Owain, whose power had allowed him to do only good. He had saved a kitten's life with it... did that make the kitten's new life any less valuable? Was that gift of breath and body any less potent than it had been before Owain's thoughts led to the saving of its existence? Of course not, Misty's voice screamed, Of course not! So, too, was Draco's conversion still valuable, and still meaningful.

"Draco," she said, her voice no longer so full of hard-edged doubt. "Are you telling me that you are willing to face your father?"

He looked surprised. "Face him? How?"

Misty then remembered that he did not know what that day held. She sat down on the bed beside him. "In a confrontation, would you be able to stand against him? Even fight him?"

Draco looked deep into her eyes, unable to comprehend what he read there. "Why would I have to?"

Misty bit her lip, hesitant for a moment, reluctant to burden Draco with all that she had discovered. Eventually, though, she decided that he out of anyone should know. "Lucius and my father have been planning some event," she muttered, and his brow furrowed with confusion and curiosity. "I don't know the details, only that it will happen tonight, and... and that it will involve me."

Draco's eyes widened and Misty immediately saw that she had given him the wrong impression. "Not like that!" she reassured him hastily. "I think it will be an act following in the footsteps of the Dark Lord."

"How do you know?" he asked her, amazement evident in his quiet voice.

"My father has been sending notes to Lucius along with the letters he sends me from Wales. He asked me not to read them, of course, but I did anyway."

"I could have predicted as much--why didn't your father?" Draco smiled at her with friendly admiration, but his grin was wiped off as he asked, "And why do they consider you so special?"

Misty didn't know for sure, but she had a good guess. Was the knowledge better kept to herself? No, best to tell him. Best to stop it from preying upon her mind. "Draco, I... I have a gift, a power. It is called Domination Legilimency. People are born with it--it is passed down through blood--and it gives the wielder the ability to enter someone's mind and control it."

His brow furrowed again, this time with concern. "You think they plan to use it? How?"

"I do not know," Misty said sorrowfully. "But I do know that their plan will take place tonight."

Draco sighed, and there was silence for a time. Finally, he quietly murmured, "I've tried to rebel against my father, you know, but there never seemed a way to take action. Life in this manor is just... just... stifling! It's like I have nothing better to do except adhere to my father's whims. Then you came along, and it was like a way out, but I couldn't take it. I was in too deep, and I couldn't climb out..."

Misty listened, thinking it would be good for him to have a sympathetic ear. Lord knows there hadn't been one in the manor for a while. When he fell silent, she hesitantly asked, "And Blaise?"

He looked up at her sharply, but his eyes were neither defensive nor angry. "I'm sorry," he said quickly. "I grew angry at my inability to escape, and you--you became my scapegoat. I used her to make you as jealous as possible..."

Misty smiled at him, for the first time since he had come, and he nearly sighed with relief. "It worked."

He smiled too, and they sat in companionable silence, each of them absorbed in thoughts of what had already happened and what was to come.

After a few minutes, Draco stood up and stretched, making his way toward her door. Misty politely followed. Before he left, however, Draco turned and said, "I feel like I can breathe again after a long while of suffocation. Or like I've come into the dark after living for years in a closet. And I suppose I owe it to you."

Misty grinned again, a sarcastic glint in her eyes. "I believe that's the closest a Malfoy has ever come to expressing gratitude."

"This Malfoy," Draco countered, "is like no other." As he turned and sauntered off down the hall, Misty wondered if there was more truth to that statement than his jaunty nature conveyed.

~*~

When all are one and one is all

To be a rock and not to roll

Misty paced about her room after Draco had gone, her nerves fraying dangerously as the sky darkened and the storm grew wilder than she thought possible. Though Misty herself was not overly superstitious, she began to wonder if the storm outside her window had come out of more than coincidence.

Thankfully, a knock came again, this time much more timid than Draco's sharp greeting. Misty hurried across the room, desperately wanting company, hoping that another face could pull her out of her pessimistic thoughts.

It was Riffy, the kind but simple little house elf that had previously helped Misty on one of her message-bearing escapades. He smiled broadly, his already creased face wrinkling with joy, and proclaimed, "The Malfoys would request your presence at their dinner table, Miss."

Taken aback, Misty merely muttered, "When?"

"Now, Miss," Riffy replied smartly, his grin never faltering.

Misty thoughts raced. Was this to be the beginning of Lucius' plan? How would this night play out? "You may tell them that I am honored," Misty commented, her voice much calmer than her muddled head.

"Wonderful, Miss!" Riffy shouted, sounding genuinely pleased. Before turning away, however, he said, "Riffy must pass on the message that this is quite a formal gathering. Riffy was told to ask that you dress your finest."

Misty was momentarily insulted that the Malfoys should think her ignorant of stately dinners; she used to believe that her family had invented the occasions. Used to believe... now she knew not what to think of her father and his motives. "Of course," she said sharply, but the elf was already leaving, his duty done. Turning back to her room, Misty dryly observed that this meant enduring a meal with Blaise, which could hardly be the most entertaining way to start the New Year, nor the most pleasant. Nonetheless, she was honored, and she tried her hardest to cast out the doubts that this invitation was not the most sincere she had received in her lifetime. The host was, after all, planning something decidedly ambitious.

Quickly donning one of her better dresses, a floor-length, long sleeved gown of crushed green velvet, Misty began to brush her hair and slip on her shoes. Checking once more in her mirror to see that nothing had been missed, she noticed an exquisite velvet jewelry box lying beneath her mirror.

Of course--the gift from her family! Inside the extravagant box was a smooth, perfectly crafted emerald circlet. Knowing that nothing could be more formal than that, Misty happily opened the box and placed the circlet atop her mass of long dark waves. She felt again in her stomach that same wrenching joy that she had felt when she opened the present... there was something special about this circlet, something powerful.

Finally prepared for the meal, Misty hurried down the steps to the first floor, practically racing into the dining room in her fear of keeping the family waiting. However, she shouldn't have worried; Draco, Alaric, Lucius, Narcissa, and Blaise were only mulling about the room, sipping from crystal champagne flukes and talking.

"Misty, dahling!" Narcissa shouted, being the first to notice Misty's arrival. She hurried to the girl's side, delicately embracing her with one jewelry-laden arm, and proclaimed, "How lovely you look tonight!"

While Misty had her doubts about the woman's husband, and for good reason, she still heartily believed that Narcissa's only sin was vanity. Giving a genuine smile, she said, "Thank you, Lady Narcissa."

"No need for titles tonight, child," she woman said gracefully before gliding to her husband's side. "We want only to celebrate, as equals."

Misty could not resist shooting Blaise a smug look, and was gratified by the horrified disbelief upon the girl's face.

Trying desperately to save her pride, Blaise daintily swallowed the last of her fizzy drink before murmuring, "Regrettably, you missed the champagne. One could have predicted it, though, based on your previous lack of tact... not to mention manners."

"None of us are in the position to speak of manners, Blaise, least of all you," Draco countered smoothly before Misty could open her mouth. He winked, then, and poured a bit of his own drink into a glass. "Here."

Misty accepted the proffered fluke and sipped it as disdainfully as Blaise had done. This time, Blaise's was the face mottled with rage.

Lucius cut in, his cold voice obviously amused. "I believe the dinner will be arriving soon, shall we sit down?"

"Certainly," Narcissa agreed, and she took his arm as he led her to his seat. Much to Misty's pleasure, and to Blaise's extreme anger, Draco offered his arm to the Welshwoman. "Madame?"

Gallantly, Alaric provided himself as Blaise's escort, but she looked much less pleased than Misty. Reluctantly, she took his tiny arm, and the three couples flitted to their places at the table.

When each person was seated, the doors opened and the butler, Mr. Mason, sternly carried in a tray of steaming roast turkey. He was followed by the first and second footmen, Robin and Rory, both of whom brought a bowl in each hand.

Misty's mouth fell open lower with each trip, and before the entire meal sat on the table, she could have swallowed several of the dishes whole. Realizing how silly she must have looked, she closed her mouth abruptly, only to open it again and receive bites of golden roasted potatoes, Yorkshire pudding, carrots cooked in caramel, sautéed mushrooms, and hot spiced turkey.

By the end, she was quite full, and so happy to have successfully kept up the conversation throughout the night that it nearly overshadowed her annoyance toward Blaise. When all the dishes were cleared, Misty shared a smile with Draco, and was nearly content enough to have given one to Lucius as well...nearly.

She was about to politely excuse herself when the doors came open again, and this time Lucius's own mouth was quirking into a wry half-smile. Each of the guests, excluding Lucius, gasped in surprise as a towering sculpture of a red, fire-breathing dragon came wheeling into the dining room.

"Lucius!" Narcissa gasped, her voice breathy, "it's beautiful!"

"Mr. Miles will need a few weeks off, I presume," Draco commented seriously, and Misty's servant knowledge provided that he was speaking of the cook.

"Miss Tewdwr," Lucius said, and Misty's surprised face turned sharply toward him, doubt and wonder clouding her eyes. He did not seem to notice her suspicion. "I had hopes that you would enjoy such a treat, for it is molded from marzipan after the red dragon of your home country."

Her voice was icy as she replied, "While the Welsh do display themselves proudly as the people of the dragon, I find that its unmerciful expression far closer resembles one of your own."

In the following moment of everlasting silence, Misty was very much afraid that she had overstepped. After all the time she had spent discovering this man's secret plan, she came dangerously close to spoiling her work with that comment. She was shocked and relieved, therefore, when he laughed.

"Or perhaps it is the model of that unmerciful tongue of yours," he observed dryly, and he sounded almost approving.

Narcissa, Alaric, Draco, and Blaise seemed to share a collective sigh of relief upon his words, glad that his wrath had not been unleashed. Seizing the moment of precarious silence, Narcissa said cheerily, "The creature is still edible, no matter its expression!" And with that, the footmen began doling out pieces of the dessert.

As Misty was rewarded with the exquisitely scaled, spiky tail of the sculpture, she could not help but wonder what had brought her words. Stress, she decided, and a growing dislike for this cool, calm, arrogant man. Now that Misty had decided what path she would take that night, she was seeing more clearly his faults, his sins. And they were not comforting, for while he was misguided, he was also very powerful, very powerful indeed.

~*~